It Is Gone.
The morning sun shone brightly over central Ponyville, melting a recent light snow despite the temperature still being slightly below freezing, and also despite the designated ‘Winter Wrap-Up’ of snow clearing not set to occur for another two months; winters these days had less snow anyway. This weather had the amusing effect of creating enormous icicles on the roof edges of every building in town. This included City Hall, not to be confused with the nearby and far older Town Hall in the middle of Ponyville’s central carrefour, which was only used for major functions and currently resembled some nutcase miser’s ice palace.
On the top floor of City Hall, in the corner office facing both the main-drag Stirrup Street and the carrefour to the south, a mocha-colored mare with a wavy grey mane and dark blue eyes that would be piercing if they were not bloodshot and glassy stared blearily out one of her windows at a massive icicle. The name etched onto the desk-plate made it clear to anyone who may have been curious that they were in the presence of Mayor Meyer Mare.
“Ice, ice, baby,” babbled the Mayor, her breath in the chilly office colored a sickly green-brown. On her desk sat the remnants of a glass bottle whose consumed contents were denoted only by a sticker with a apple-shield.
At that moment, a light tap on the door rang through the mayor’s ears. She did not bother to invite whoever it was in, assuming correctly that they would enter anyway. The grey mare with her brunette mane in a carefully arranged bun, smart red bowtie to contrast the mayor’s messy green cravat, and black full glasses which again presented a contrast with the mayor’s trademark gold-framed half-rim spectacles, took one look at Ponyville’s ostensible leader and rolled her deep brown eyes.
“Meyer, do I even want to know why you’ve been in your office all night this time?” the mare asked.
Slowly turning her head to face the visitor, Mayor Mare eventually said, “Raven, I just needed awhile to be alone and drink and think and not do anything for, like, a year.”
“It certainly seems like it’s been that long since we last spoke,” Raven agreed.
“I mean, it’s not like I didn’t want to deal with you particularly. It’s just…” Mayor Mare trailed off but Raven finished her sentence.
“We’ve been doing this job for a long time, and… I’ve finally started to realize why you always feel so ‘done’ with everything. And, unlike me or anyone else at City Hall, you serve at the pleasure of the Princess herself, who wants you in this job for reasons none of us understand,” concluded Raven.
Mayor Mare rolled her eyes. “Thank you for recapulating… is that the right word?”
“No.”
“…our last few years of existence to the giant ice spike outside, Miss Inkwell,” said the mayor, sarcasm dripping.
Raven finally turned toward the window and noticed the icicle. “Wow, that is enormous,” she said with a slight hint of awe.
The mayor nodded in agreement. “So, what brings you here so early in the morning?”
“This is the time we’re supposed to start work on a workday?” replied Raven. “Because I don’t spend all night or a year or whatever alone in my nonexistent office drinking my troubles away.”
The mayor let out another breath, this one less sickly-colored than before, then smiled at the vapor.
“Speaking of ‘alone’,” Raven switched the subject, “When do you plan to intervene to get Spike out of jail?”
Mayor Mare leaned her head back. “He was underage and flying under the influence in Inner Canterlot. Kind of a serious crime there. Not a lot I can do. That’s up to Celestia and she’s been too busy weeding out moles from ex-Chancellor Orangeglow’s government. I hope she springs him soon. I need a drinking buddy and I’m sorry Raven but you’re a fuddy-duddy who… What’s that sound?”
From three floors up they could hear angry chanting rapidly approaching the building. Raven briefly rubbed her right cheek.
“Oh right. That’s the reason I came in here before you involved me in your tangent. (Why do I always get caught up in those?). It’s today’s angry mob,” Raven said matter-of-factly.
The mayor groaned. “What is it this time? Taxes? Disasters? The fact we still haven’t rebuilt the public library?”
Raven shook her head. “No. I think… Yes. They’re upset about how the Wagon-wheel rally is being moved to Trottingham after twenty years here in Ponyville.”
If the mayor could have cursed in an “E”-rated story, she would have. As it was, however, she let out the most irritated groan of her life.
“Seriously?” the mayor deadpanned.
“Seriously,” confirmed Raven with a nod.
The mayor rolled her eyes as she stumbled off her spot and eventually reached a position of mobility.
“We wouldn’t be so lucky that that giant icicle there would break off and crush them, would we?”
“It is extremely unlikely without any of our compatriots here, Meyer.”
Mayor Mare sighed. “I guess there’s no choice. I’m in charge of this town. I have to face the mob.” She paused for a second before adding, “But you’re coming with me!”
Unlike Town Hall, City Hall did not have the benefit of a stage or dais perched above the average pony’s line of sight to subtly convey a sense of authority. The best Mayor Meyer Mare could do was let the angry mob into her building and meet them at the public stairs, which still bore scorch-marks from that time ex-Chancellor Orangeglow’s mane-weave caught on fire.
“Mares, stallions,” the mayor began, feigning ignorance, “What seems to be the problem?” She resisted for once the temptation to add ‘this time’ to the end.
A burly umber stallion with a greying moustache and a wheel cutie mark was the first to speak. “We’re mad ‘cause the big rally is moving to Trottingham! You’re killing this town!”
“I assure you Ponyville can, will, and has survived despite my leadership,” Mayor Mare snarked.
“We were hoping, Meyer,” a purple mare named Berry Punch slurred, “after two years of no rally thanks to the Blue-Flu pandemic, that the booz— uh, the food and music would come back, not leave for good.”
The stallion interjected. “We deserve a good explanation! Otherwise we got good reason to kick you out and finally make Ponyville great again!”
That last sentence caused Mayor Mare to involuntarily chuckle. “Haven’t heard that one in awhile. Anyway, notwithstanding that, whether any of us like it or not, I serve at the pleasure of Princess Celestia and she has seen no reason to fire me despite…” she briefly glanced around the room to various burn marks and cheap patches to previous damage, “…everything. So, we’re stuck with each other for now.”
The crowd grumbled. Berry Punch passed out.
“Berry, that’s what you get for always protesting just to protest, plus invariably seeking out the cheapest illegal hooch. I told you to just give me a call and I could get you some spirituous liquors that won’t put you in the hospital or blind you again,” said the mayor.
Raven’s eyes widened. “Should you really be saying that out loud?”
“How many years has it been since I tried to get myself fired? Remember how well it worked?” asked Meyer rhetorically.
Raven shook her head. “I don’t believe I was part of this dumb saga at that point, Meyer.”
“Anyway,” the mayor continued, “You all need to understand two things: One, there are a significant number of locals who have grown to hate the rally and had been asking us for years to revoke its permits. Second and more importantly, the spot where the rally’s main stage goes is about to be redeveloped into a new fire station to replace the old one that burned down. That entire area is getting a facelift. We just broke ground on a new Golden Oaks Library.”
“Well we don’t want that either!” the stallion countered.
“Too bad,” Mayor Mare shot back. “The townsponies were consulted about all of this and the verdict was in favor of rebuilding what was destroyed and that empty ‘main stage’ lot. Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean a majority agreed with you. And if you didn’t weigh in when you had the chance a few years ago, well, that’s your fault.”
“So… what?” shot back the stallion. “All of a sudden this is a place where the majority rules?”
Mayor Mare blinked in utter confusion. “Um… yes?”
Raven, trying her best to maintain her composure, continued the thought. “The squeaky wheel may get the grease, but the loudest ponies don’t always speak for everyone even when they think they do. Have you not heard of the concept of the ’silent majority’?”
“Of course I have!” spat the stallion whose name is irrelevant. “And that’s us!”
The mayor found a banister to smack her forehead against. “No. No it’s really not,” she said.
“Well, what’re you gonna do about the rally? Ponyville needs that business!” the stallion countered.
“That was something we considered,” Raven replied as she gently placed her hoof over Meyer’s mouth to keep a cavalcade of curses from spewing out. “We surveyed our downtown businesses. While the taverns and some restaurants saw an uptick during that long weekend, it was mostly counterbalanced by other businesses having to close as locals often leave or stay in their homes, in addition to the extra resources we must spend on increased police and of course the usual jump of about ten percent in hospital admittance for injuries. Davenport of Quills & Sofas and Rarity of The Carousel Boutique were especially adamant about the damage tens of thousands of rally-goers does to their bottom lines.”
The stallion countered, “Who cares what some prissy girl thinks?”
Mayor Mare, face still against the banister, scoffed. “You really must not be from around here. She may look prissy, but she kind of helped save the world a few times. You don’t want to run into her in a dark alley at night. Found that one out the hard way after she and Applejack learned about my… legitimate business with their younger sisters. Spike was too whipped to be any help, some friend that lousy…”
“Meyer? Focus?” Raven interjected.
“Hmm? Oh. Right,” said the mayor. “That thing that I don’t care about. So. A bunch of empty lots on Stirrup Street between the Town Hall and the library pit, which I’ll add has been broken into at least sixteen times by ponies trying to steal Twilight’s old equipment or elixirs and we usually find their bodies several dozen yards away, makes Ponyville even more of an eyesore than it already is. Even this town can change, and we’re finally rebuilding. Live with it.”
Just then, everyone turned their heads as they heard, just beyond the doors of City Hall, a tremendously loud gallop mixed with the creaking of wagon wheels, followed by a crash which shook flecks of material and dust off the ceiling. Raven sneezed from the dust.
Hurrying outside, or ambling and stumbling in the mayor’s case, all the gathered ponies saw a blue stallion with a broken-wheel cutie mark laying amidst the wreckage of the building’s corner support post plus a wagon attached to his overly fancy yoke. As he lifted his head, he eyes belay the fact that he was under the influence of something powerful enough to make the mayor herself seem sober.
“Yeah!! Wagon-Wheel Rally! Even if stuff’s goin’ to Trottin’ham, we’ll keep comin’ here anyway! No one can keep us out!” he screamed as that corner of City Hall began to shake dangerously.
Mayor Mare and Raven Inkwell could only watch in defeated irritation as the entire corner of the building, including the mayor’s office and giant icicle, came crashing down on top of the stallion, whipping up an enormous cloud of dust. The mob and Raven stared in horror at the scene while the mayor herself shook her head, expecting exactly what happened next.
Out of the debris pile, the stallion popped out his head and a forehoof as he pumped it into the air, screaming, “Yee-haw!!”
“And that,” Mayor Mare concluded, “is another reason why I let the rally move to Trottingham. I’m tired of my office getting destroyed every year, especially when it’s not even my fault. Now all of you, leave.”
“But…” said the mob leader, meekly.
Mayor Mare was not having it. “Bug me again in one year’s time. Until then, GET OUT!!”